a scavenger's roguelike
Walk a battlefield. Read the bodies before you touch them — some are sleeping, some are lying, some are waiting. Bring what they carried back to Maggie in the den. She examines every piece like a jeweler. She sees the light in things. She tells you whose it was, and what it meant, and why you keep finding these particular shapes.
Observation is a real verb. Bodies can look one way and be another. Learn to tell the difference and the field starts telling you secrets.
A letter stopped mid-sentence. A ring that won't come off. A photograph with three faces crossed out. Bring them home and the story assembles itself.
She runs the den. She reads the bones. She knows something about you that you don't. Each run she says a little more and hides a little less.
A persistent battlefield that remembers you. Bodies evolve between runs. Rivals strip what you left behind. Sometimes the rain breaks and everything changes.
A persistent battlefield. Bodies decay between visits. Threats escalate. Your drops can be stolen by rivals while you're back at the den. Come back fast.
A warm lantern-lit room. Maggie sits at her table. Shelves behind her hold jars and books. A kettle steams. She talks to you while she reads your haul.
Six-faced bones you roll at Maggie's table. Triples read your fortune. Pairs nudge the field in your favor. Dust keeps the flame.
Your light is a resource. Full, dim, out. Burn a flask or a letter for more fuel. Run dry and the field changes shape around you.
A pinboard that fills in as you find items that shared a person. A web of names. And a thread you haven't noticed yet, between you and her.
Three nights on the field. A named body waiting at the end. A letter he left for someone who should never have read it.
Crow Dirt is in late development. Follow along, or just check back when you feel like the field is calling.